


Frau

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Bets, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-17
Updated: 2008-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brazil 2006. Michael makes a bet with Felipe, but neither of them realise quite what they're getting into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frau

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [F1 Summer Slash Challenge 2008](http://www.triqueta.net/tarot/index.html), taking prompts from randomly drawn tarot cards. Set at the post-race hotel party.

**The Devil.** _"...it can also represent the seeker needs to loosen up a bit and have some fun and be a little naughty, just don’t go overboard. It can also represent seduction and sex."_

 **The Six of Pentacles.** _"…represents a benevolent person who is generous enough to help the seeker out financially. Generosity, gratitude, charity and kindness. Worthwhile ideas are rewarded with bonus or raise. Sharing one's good will and knowledge. Lucrative business transaction."_  
(taken from [bewitchingways.com](http://www.bewitchingways.com/))

 

"I bet you can't do it."

"You don't need to bet, I've already told you once that I won't do it."

"You misunderstand me. I didn't say I bet you _won't_ do it, I said I bet you _can't_."

"That doesn't matter, whatever you said. I'm not going to do it, so the argument doesn't matter."

A pause.

"Is the reason you won't do it because you know you can't?"

"No!"

Michael had never pouted before - at least, not to Felipe's knowledge - but whatever his version of pouting was, Felipe was quite sure that he was doing it then.

That sentence had made quite a bit of sense in his head, but then again he'd had a few glasses of champagne. Well, a few was a conservative estimate, and champagne had been ditched later on in the night in favour of cocktails. Strong ones. It would be rude not to on a night like this, really; tonight was important.

Though, important didn't necessarily mean doing whatever Michael told you to do, or bet that you couldn't do, for that matter. Felipe straightened from his slouched position in the far too comfortable semicircular red velvet seat and reached for his drink. "All you're trying to do is push me into doing something I don't want to do, and that doesn't make you a very good friend," Felipe chided, bringing the rim of his glass to his exaggeratedly puckered lips.

"Don't say something like that," Michael replied, sounding a little hurt. The fact that he was still smiling diminished what little regret Felipe may have felt. The German pointed in no particular direction, obviously intending to indicate towards the Interlagos circuit. "That was my very last Formula One race out there, and this is my very last end of season party here as a driver. I just want to make a little bet and you don't want to play along; it's not very sporting, is it?"

Felipe narrowed his eyes, attempting to look annoyed and not just drunk and squinting. "That's emotional blackmail." His eyes wandered over to Kimi across the room, similarly if not more drunk than himself, leaning heavily against the wall and waving a half empty champagne bottle around; from his worse-for-wear state you would have thought that he'd won the championship. Felipe watched him for a few moments, all flushed face, scruffy hair and lazy grin, then shook his head. He set his Caipirinha back down and slumped back, picking at his belt buckle. "Besides," he murmured, and if Michael hadn't been sat right next to him he'd have struggled to hear his teammate. "Like you said, this is your very last end of season party as a driver, and it's here in Sao Paulo. I don't want to do it because tonight I'd really rather hang around with you."

There was a long silence, and though Felipe refused to look up at Michael, he could feel the German's eyes on him almost as acutely as the warm press of his arm against his own. Smirk tugging at his lips, Felipe nudged Michael with his elbow. "Shut up. I can hear you grinning."

Now Michael laughed. "Aha, _that's_ emotional blackmail!" he exclaimed, sounding not a little smug. The arm against Felipe's lifted up and draped across the Brazilian's shoulders. "It's dark enough in here that no-one would recognise you, and everybody's drunk. They won't know, least of all Kimi. You should really get to know your future teammate, you know."

"You call that 'getting to know'?!" Felipe spluttered, looking wide-eyed at the other man. "Is that how you welcomed Rubens?"

The mere thought of that sent the both of them into fits of giggles for a minute. "No," Michael asserted eventually, grinning. "This is just a you-and-me thing."

"A you-and-me-and- _him_ thing," Felipe corrected, eyebrows raised, nodding his head towards Kimi.

"Just for tonight, honestly. Just this once, just to see if you can do it."

Felipe remained visibly unconvinced, and that coercing arm around his shoulders lifted away - only to slip underneath the table and slide a hand along his thigh, squeezing gently. " _I'd_ really enjoy it," Michael murmured.

"That's a bit more persuasive," Felipe acknowledged before swatting Michael's hand away. "Not persuasive enough."

The pair of them sat in silence for a while, Michael seemingly dissuaded from trying anymore. Felipe swiped up his Caipirinha in a far too triumphant manner, sloshing a little of the sour-sweet drink over his hand, his roving eye catching sight of Kimi again. A few girls orbited around him, and he would do little more than grin, dance a bit, and return his attention to his champagne. Felipe let his head fall back to rest against the arch of the seat back as he watched the Finn though heavy lidded eyes. "I should get to know him a bit, for sure," he mused half to himself. "But I don't know if that way is really appropriate."

A thud sounded from the table, bringing his attention away from Kimi, and before him lay several banknotes.

"That's not all of it, I don't have much more with me," Michael partly elaborated. "Two thousand _reais_ , or we can do it in Euros if you want. I bet you two thousand _reais_ that you can't do it."

Felipe's eyebrows shot up. "You..." He looked between the presented money and Michael. "Two thousand?"

"Two thousand. That's how confident I am."

Well. That changed things.

 

 

"Does Corinna know you have these things?"

"I won't answer that."

"You're not in a press conference, you know."

"It would be a really strange press conference, wouldn't it?"

"I'm starting to believe that you were planning for this to happen."

Michael merely smiled and held out a pair of black elbow length gloves. "It's not dark enough down there to hide the hair on your arms."

Felipe gave him a look and took the gloves, slipping them on. Drunkenness initially led to putting one of them on the wrong way around, leading to a concerned statement that sounded astute in his head. "My thumb is on the wrong side."

Michael stifled a chuckle as he helped adjust the glove. "The heels on your shoes are only small so you shouldn't fall over, but be careful." He brushed Felipe down, tugging the wrinkles out of his new outfit. "I think that's it."

He turned Felipe around to face his hotel room's full-length mirror, checking the Brazilian over with both hands and eyes to make sure everything was just right. Felipe squinted at Michael's reflection suspiciously. "You're not as drunk as I am, are you?"

Michael smiled that disarming smile again. "No, but you're also not drunk enough that I might be taking advantage of you here. And you did just win your home grand prix, so despite what Kimi seems to think, you should be the most drunk out of all of us."

After a moment a goofy grin spread across Felipe's face. "I did, didn't I?" His grin remained as he returned his gaze to his own reflection, not entirely sure how he'd gotten into this. The situation, not the long black dress, though that was almost a feat in and of itself. He hadn't even managed to smudge his carefully applied glimmering gold lipstick, or his smoky eyeshadow. In fact, though he was sobering up rather quickly thanks to this predicament, the fact that he hadn't yet managed to mess up any of Michael's carefully crafted ensemble - from his high denier tights to the sock-padded bra up to the wig of chocolate coloured loose curls that cascaded down just past his shoulders - should have merited him a few hundred Euros already, at least.

Michael's hands smoothed down Felipe's sides and settled at his hips, causing a faint blush to rise in the Brazilian's cheeks. Felipe might very well need more alcohol to pull this off; the more he looked at himself in the mirror, the more depressingly clear his reflection became. "I look like a man with a dress on," he murmured despondently, shoulders slumped.

"You should be okay," Michael assured. "Just stay away from the brightly lit parts. You might only think that because you _know_ you're a man with a dress on."

Felipe snorted. "Thanks, you sound really confident." He drew his elbow back, jabbing Michael in the stomach. "You're not good at making me look pretty."

Michael's eyebrows shot up, incredulous smile on his face. "You _want_ to look pretty?"

"I want to win this bet!"

"Then come on!" Michael responded, not missing a beat. He slipped his hand into Felipe's and led him towards the door. "We should hurry, Kimi might be on the floor already."

As the door began to swing open, Felipe held out a gloved hand to stop it. "Wait, we should make things completely clear first." He held up his hand and counted off on satin wrapped fingers. "I have to get a kiss from Kimi. He has to give one to me, or it doesn't count. He can't recognise me or do it for a joke. He has to do it, all the time he is thinking that I'm a pretty Paulista. That's correct?"

"That's exactly correct," Michael nodded emphatically.

"Two thousand?"

"Two thousand." Michael reached forward and opened the door, holding it open for his newly decorated friend. "After you, _Frau_."

 

 

Rather worryingly, after the ordeal of getting reading and then descending in the lift with a head filled with thoughts of how the hell he was going to pull this off - his damn shoes had had him walking like he was almost paralytically drunk down the corridor to the lifts before he'd worked out how to adjust his balance correctly - when he re-entered the party, Felipe realised with some horror that he'd sobered up rather a lot. Now he stood there filled with the warm burn of alcohol in his stomach, a chest full of fluttering noise from his heart and a mind struck numb with self-consciousness and vague panic. Michael hadn't accompanied him into the room, both of them having conceded that it would look a bit suspicious if anyone had seen them leaving together earlier - so now he was stood there on his own amongst the vast crowd of revellers. In a dress.

He took a step forward, hesitated. Wanted to bolt. _What would happen if I was found out? What on Earth would everyone think of me?_

As he turned his head to look back at the doors, Felipe caught his reflection in the large mirror behind the smaller bar area to his side. Michael was right, it was pretty dark in there. And the girl staring back at Felipe from that mirror looked...pretty good. Not stunningly beautiful and elegant, but not as glaringly man-in-a-dress as he'd feared. Rather importantly he even wondered for a brief second if that was really him, and that made him smile. Maybe that two thousand was going to be easier to win than he'd thought.

Casting his eyes across the room, he spotted a familiar shock of blond hair in the relatively unfamiliar space of the dancefloor and shuffled his way through the crowd towards it. Another small mercy he'd found was, with the room being so full, he had no need to attempt the same sexy, loose hipped walk usually associated with the ethereal, pouting beauties around the paddock in Monaco - he'd only just mastered walking properly. He veered away from the dancefloor itself and chose to hover around the edge, look as casual as possible and keep one eye on Kimi, the Finn dancing with Heikki and Fernando. The music was loud, the bass enough to make the hairs on your arms quiver, and Kimi was displaying a peculiar sense of rhythm; his head loose on his shoulders, his hips seemingly leading his movements, his arms raised into the air and appearing for all the world as though he just didn't care. He reached out towards Fernando, still dancing, wiggling his fingers in a silent plea for the champagne bottle the three of them seemed to be sharing, and Fernando hugged the bottle with one arm as he turned away to shield it, flashing a brilliantly smug grin over his shoulder.

Felipe found himself caught up with just watching them, smiling almost fondly as Kimi attempted to get the champagne bottle by standing on tiptoes and folding himself over Fernando's back, reaching over the Spaniard's shoulders and grasping for the elusive bottle. Fernando defended by bending further, his free arm swinging back to hook around Kimi's thigh, forcing the Finn's feet to leave the floor and his arm to wrap around Fernando's neck to keep from falling off, the other arm still blindly straining for the bottle, and the two of them ended up in an extremely awkward and precarious piggyback. As heroically inebriated as they were, balance swiftly became an issue and the two of them staggered around, Fernando complaining loudly that Kimi was heavy but relinquishing neither the bottle nor his grip on Kimi's thigh, and Kimi merely repeating over and over his request for the champagne. Heikki meanwhile, aside from making occasional half-hearted swipes for the bottle, was mostly doubled up with laughter and no help to either his countryman or his teammate.

Felipe smiled wider as the antics continued, especially proclaiming loudly that 'you musht give me de bottle' in a hypnotic monotone. Perhaps he wouldn't miss Michael quite so much next season.

Suddenly a brainwave struck him. Darting to the nearest bar, he acquired a new bottle of champagne and returned to the edge of the dancefloor and what was swiftly becoming a game of driver Jenga - if the coveted bottle was snatched away, it was highly likely that both Kimi and Fernando would end up sprawled on the floor - and held the new bottle aloft like a first place trophy. "Kimi, I have something for you!" he called in what he hoped sounded like a passable female voice. This drew the desired attention, and Kimi slid inelegantly off Fernando's back, just barely keeping his balance as his feet hit the ground. Heikki booed, Fernando following suit as Kimi approached Felipe, sending butterflies kicking up a storm in the Brazilian's stomach. Kimi smiled, pleased as he accepted the bottle, and stepped closer to throw his arms around his saviour. "Thank you," a rather surprised Felipe heard him say close to his ear. "Those two were being assholes, but it's all fun."

At the continued booing, Kimi unwrapped his arms from around Felipe - who was quite sure that the hand that had brushed over his ass hadn't done so innocently - and turned back to the Renault boys, arm sliding around Felipe's waist and gesturing towards him with the bottle. "This lady was nice to me, not you two. When was the last time somebody gave you champagne for free?"

Fernando laughed, then cupped both hands around his mouth. "Today, on the pooooodium!" he howled. "Has the drinking killed your brain cells, Iceman?"

Heikki's grin was distinctly more mischievous as he raised an eyebrow, looking squarely at Felipe. "Well, how are you going to pay her back?"

Felipe felt heat rise in his cheeks, eyes widening a little at that look, but before he could say anything or think much beyond the little thrill of panic that Heikki may have recognised him, Kimi leaned in and planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. His face must have been a sight to behold, because both Heikki and Fernando burst out laughing. When Kimi released him, all Felipe could do was wipe his cheek with the back of a gloved hand and laugh nervously. Kimi raised the bottle again in thanks and wobbled off, leaving Felipe to make a feeble attempt to call him back to no avail. As he rubbed his cheek again, his gaze returned to Heikki, amusement dancing in those blue eyes. The remaining Finn nudged Fernando, whose attention had gone back to his hard won champagne, and murmured something in his ear. Fernando righted the bottle abruptly and gulped down his mouthful, staring incredulously in Felipe's direction. Felipe stiffened as Heikki's worrying grin reappeared, and he thought it best to make himself scarce. Either Heikki had indeed figured out who he was, or he was planning something fiendish. Possibly both. As quickly as possible in his heels he slipped back into the crowd and out of sight without looking back.

Having had his plan backfire and now having lost track of Kimi, Felipe huffed and headed for the nearest bar, getting another cocktail and a little flirting for his troubles from the barman. His plan hadn't been much of a plan, admittedly, and he probably would have gotten a proper kiss from Kimi had he not been caught so offguard, but at that moment he was out of ideas and doing nothing but resisting the temptation to lick at his lipstick or scratch his balls. Eventually he figured that if he stuck close enough to Kimi but not enough to look like a stalker, an opportunity might show itself, so he slid off the barstool and stood on his tiptoes, spotting Kimi and moving off towards the Finn.

_SMACK!_

Felipe yelped and spun around, eyes almost popping out of his head as his ass throbbed from the hard slap it had just been given. His shock turned to outrage when he was confronted by the amused grin of Nick Heidfeld.

" _Guten abend, frau_ ," the diminutive German purred - the one comfort Felipe was taking right then was that his kitten heels meant he was slightly taller than Nick - then chuckled and raised his beer in a 'cheers' motion, turning away. Felipe spluttered, wanting to fling insults at his former teammate but unable to get any semblance of a sentence past his glimmering lips. It didn't help that he was now alarmed at the distinct prospect that everybody was recognising him with ease. So, unable to speak and not wanting to waste his cocktail by throwing it over the other man, Felipe marched after him and delivered a sharp smack to Nick's ass, enough for Nick's reaction to mirror his own. Greeting Nick's wide eyes with an insolent stare, the Brazilian raised his glass and promptly flounced off.

The problem that Felipe then found was, after that encounter, Kimi wasn't where he had been minutes before. In fact, after Felipe turned around in a full circle on his tiptoes and only wobbling a little, it seemed that Kimi was nowhere to be found. He clenched his fist. " _Merda!_ "

It took him half an hour of as nonchalant as possible wandering around to find the Finn again - well, he'd actually spotted him heading into the men's bathrooms at one point, and had been absolutely intent on following him in before remembering exactly he was dressed and thinking better of it. Now Kimi was in the same area Felipe and Michael had been in when making this ridiculous bet, sprawled luxuriously in the middle of one of those semicircular velvet couches with his champagne propped between his knees. Initially Felipe thought he had nodded off, Kimi's arms slung across the back of the seat as they were and his head resting back, eyes closed. Then the Brazilian noticed the steady tap-tap-tap of his forefingers along with the beat of the song reverberating through the room, and he smiled. This could be his chance; wander over with cool confidence and swipe the bottle from between Kimi's legs, and when he would look up in surprise, Felipe would be stood there, one gloved hand on his hip, the other raising the bottle to his pouting lips and taking a swig. _You owe me a drink, Iceman._

Felipe grinned to himself, brimming with certainty, and had made not three steps towards Kimi when several Formula Una girls beat him to it. Kimi greeted them with a half smile, sitting up a little as they engaged him in conversation, and Felipe went no further. Initially he contemplated slipping in amongst the girls and joining in with the conversation, but the more he watched them smile and talk animatedly, the more he watched Kimi smirk that lazy smirk, the more his confidence ebbed away. His grin faded to nothing, and he raised his eyes to his reflection in the large mirror behind Kimi and the girls. His shoulders sank again. _Man with a dress on._

He was kidding himself even thinking he could pull this off; alongside those leggy, beautiful women, all he was was a man in a dress. Felipe didn't have a clue what he was doing and Kimi wouldn't fall for it even if he did. As he was about to turn away Kimi noticed him watching, smiled and gave a little wave, gesturing for him to come over. Felipe gave a wan smile in return and shook his head, indicating to his bevy of lovelies. Kimi held his champagne aloft as an offer, Felipe shook his head again and disappeared back into the crowd.

 

 

He made his way to a quietish corner of the room and sagged in a most unladylike manner against the wall. "This is so ridiculous," he mumbled to himself. "A wig and black satin gloves, in this humidity..." Stealing a furtive glance around and seeing no-one close or looking in his direction, he took a moment to lift up the hairline of his wig and fan his real hair and scalp underneath. It did little to relieve him and he went back to feeling a bit grumpy and sorry for himself.

It seemed like Michael had picked his outfit based solely on how badly it itched. The gloves made his hands sweat, the tights were restrictive, the bra kept sticking into him and he wanted to claw his scalp off thanks to the stifling wig. All of that combined just made him immensely thankful that he hadn't been coerced into wearing his dear Schumi's _piece de resistance_ \- a lacy black thong that he'd baulked at instantly (how would everything fit?). No, all this was quite itchy and uncomfortable enough, especially as he was now getting the feeling that his feet were swelling in his kitten heels. As if the itching wasn't -

His miserable train of thought stuttered to a halt as a conversation occurring just around the corner from him caught his attention.

"It's getting late, I don't think it's gonna happen."

"I tell you, I think I saw him earlier, I think we have already lost. Anyway, tonight's not finished yet, you can't know for sure. Why do you think the bet was so low?"

"Small bet or not, I don't wanna lose money to him again. It's a matter of principle, I'd sooner go up there and help that wee guy out of his suspenders if that's what it took."

As the sound of an Australian, a Spaniard and a Scot dissolving into laughter rang in his ears, Felipe felt his stomach drop through his feet. Somewhat absurdly, he remembered those old Bugs Bunny cartoons he watched as a child, and the sight of one of the characters turning into a giant lollipop emblazoned with the word SUCKER when they realised they'd been fooled. That was how he felt - a giant, sweaty, itchy lollipop in a wig. Clenching his jaw, the Brazilian rounded the corner to face DC, Mark and Fernando. "I'm not wearing suspenders," he stated with his chin jutting out defiantly, as if it made a difference. Three heads turned towards him, and after a few seconds of stunned silence, they burst out in incredulous laughter.

"You are _joking_ ," Mark crowed, looking Felipe up and down with an open mouthed grin. "I can't believe he - you actually look halfway decent!"

Felipe's expression soured further and he crossed his arms, feeling faintly embarrassed at the sudden scrutiny.

"Bollocks," DC muttered ruefully, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Another grand down the swanny. I'm glad Michael's bloody retiring, you know."

Fernando's grin was about as wide as the one he'd worn on the podium earlier that day. He put a hand to his head. "That _was_ you! This is too much!" he exclaimed, sinking against the nearest wall and apparently helpless with giggles. "Today has been crazy enough, now you're standing there in a dress and suspenders..."

"I'm not wearing suspenders!" Felipe cried indignantly, shoulders hunching. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Mark bending and peering at his legs, so he stumbled back a few steps, blushing furiously and snatching the edges of his dress away from those prying Aussie eyes. "And I'm not wearing the thong, before any of you say anything!"

DC's eyes went wide, fresh amusement spreading over his face. "Oh, but there was a thong involved? Pray tell, Felipe - or Philippa, I should say - you can't just dangle a piece of incriminating information like that and expect to get away with it."

"Speaking of dangling, mate, if there's no thong are you going commando down there?"

At Mark's suggestion, both Red Bull drivers leered at the feminised Felipe, making menacing grabby hands, and in the midst of his despair Felipe contemplated letting them do whatever they wanted because he was quite sure this couldn't get any worse. Then a voice came from behind him.

"He finally got you!"

Felipe turned to find Rubens behind him, lopsided grin firmly in place. The younger Brazilian's brow furrowed, the dread in his stomach suddenly growing. "What does that mean, finally got me? Did you know about this also?"

"From the very beginning!" Rubens replied, grinning wider. Felipe looked baffled, and Rubens elaborated. "This is just a thing he does to people in the team, a bit of an initiation. He persuades them to do something silly, dress in a funny way maybe, all the while making a bet with some of the other drivers that they would see that team mate in a dress or in a police cell or something like that, before the season was done. I'm surprised it took him this long, actually."

Choosing to ignore the possible implications of that last statement, his head being in enough of a whirl as it was, Felipe instead eyed his countryman and tried to wrap his head around the other things he'd said. "Don't tell me that _you_..." he tugged at his dress by way of explanation.

Rubens's eyebrows shot up. "No, not at all, he could never convince me! The red wigs were as far as it got, he played other kinds of pranks on me later." Suddenly he turned his head to DC. "Remember what you promised, never a word." The Scot held up his hands and drew an imaginary zip across his smirking lips, and Rubens seemed satisfied. He turned his attention back to Felipe. "When I was at Stewart, Eddie told me a few stories. He said he was quite willing, as well as very drunk, a lot of times."

Visibly deflated and feeling fairly humiliated, not even feeling curious enough to pry into that odd little exchange between Rubens and DC, Felipe let his head drop and stared at the floor. After a few moments, he reached down and tugged off his shoes, preferring to go barefoot than totter around in those damn things anymore. He felt Rubens's arm encircle his shoulder. "Hey, c'mon, don't take it personally," the older man murmured. "It's his sense of humour. And he'll tell you about it before the weekend is over, then give you half the money for being sporting about it."

"Half the..." Something dawned in Felipe's eyes and he raised his head. "How much did he bet you?"

Rubens looked a little quizzical. "A thousand Euros."

Felipe rounded on the three other drivers. "And you, did he bet the same?" All three nodded and the diminutive Brazilian gave a laugh not dissimilar to that of some kind of musketeer. "Ha ha ha! So even if he lost the bet with me, he'd still have four thousand just because of all of you!"

"How much drink have you got in you?" DC asked, looking quite bewildered at the sudden change in demeanour.

Glimmering lips smiled wide. "I think I have a good idea." He looked to Rubens again. "Is Silvana here tonight? Can I speak to her?"

 

A little while later, Felipe slumped down on the barstool next to Michael, giving an overdramatic sigh. His friend smiled rather smugly, offering him a fresh Caipirinha. "So are you beaten?"

"It's harder than I thought, for sure," Felipe admitted, skritching at the skin around the edge of his wig and gratefully accepting the drink. "But I'm not beaten. This isn't finished yet!" He took a sip, gave his hair a flick and kept his next words as casual as possible. "Could I borrow your room key?" At Michael's inquiring look, Felipe held his other hand aloft, kitten heels dangling from his fingers and a rueful smile on his face. "I can't wear these damn things anymore!"

 

Felipe was fairly surprised that the shoe excuse had worked without further explanation, and as he strode off cheerfully towards the hotel lobby - well, he began with striding, remembered that most of the room may still be mistaking him for a girl, and tried to be a bit more ladylike in his gait - he caught Silvana's eye and indicated to the doors. She acknowledged him with a nod and turned to Karen, Raquel and Ann, and Felipe smiled to himself as he reached for the door handle. What he hadn't expected at that moment was for someone to grasp his wrist, and for that person to be Kimi. "Are you leaving already?" the Finn drawled, his momentum leading him to stumble forward into Felipe and push them both right through the swing doors. That momentum of his - and judging by his lazy grin, perhaps more than a little of his own willingness - also carried Kimi forward into a fairly bruising, thoroughly anticlimactic kiss, his puckered lips smushing against Felipe's, and they both almost went crashing to the floor with the force of it. Felipe probably would have fallen down onto those damn kitten heels he'd since dropped, and he'd never want to explain that injury to a doctor.

Only when Felipe regained his balance did he really fathom exactly what was happening, and he afforded himself a smug little smile against Kimi's lips. He felt more than heard the Finn giggle as he messily tried to deepen the kiss and, struck by the devil, Felipe reciprocated, indulgently pressing himself into the taller man and tangling his fingers in messy blond hair. With Kimi's rather clumsy hands at last settling at black clad hips, the Brazilian realised with an inward chuckle that their pose wasn't unlike something you'd find on the cover of a trashy romance novel. _Fiery Latino beauty melts the heart of ice cool race ace..._

Once the kiss was finally broken and Kimi's arms slid from around him, Felipe actually found that heat had risen in his cheeks. He also found Kimi squinting at him. "I know you," he said with great certainty, and nothing more.

Felipe puffed a curl of hair out of his eyes, tugged the fresh wrinkles out of his dress and smiled a relieved smile. "Yes you do!" Then he slid his hand behind the neck of his dress and reached into his bra. Kimi's mouth hung slightly open, a tiny crease appearing between his eyebrows as Felipe rummaged, and he looked utterly confused when that rummaging hand withdrew and presented him with a balled-up sock. "Could you do something for me?" Felipe asked, taking Kimi's hand and placing the sock in its palm. "Take this to Michael and tell him this: old men should make smarter bets."

With that, Felipe bent and picked up his discarded shoes and walked off towards the lifts with a distinct swagger. He called out over his shoulder, glint in his dark eyes. "If you were sober, you might be a better kisser!"

"Oh, you want to find out?" Kimi responded archly, grinning.

Felipe pushed the button to call the lift, then reached up and pulled his wig off, turning to face his future teammate with a matching grin. "Maybe I do!"

Kimi's expression faltered only slightly as he squinted across the lobby. Finally, as Felipe stepped into an empty lift, Kimi pointed at him with the sock, eyes widening. "I _know_ you!"

Felipe could only laugh as the doors slid closed.

 

Tossing the wig and shoes onto Michael's bed, the Brazilian wiped off the remnants of his lipstick on a tissue as he put his plan into action, hauling out Michael's suitcases and removing his clothes from the wardrobe. A few minutes later and there was a knock at the door. He greeted Silvana and Raquel with a smile, eyeing the collection of items in their arms and welcoming them in. "I think you have all the things I need, thank you!"

"Karen and Ann are on their way," Silvana said as she walked to the bed and laid out what she'd brought.

"How much time do we have?" Raquel asked.

"Ten minutes before it might be suspicious," Felipe responded, peering down the corridor. "A lot of time with five of us."

Once the two remaining women arrived with similar armfuls of items, Felipe closed the door and grinned. "Okay. Here's what we have to do."

 

_The following morning..._

Felipe leaned against his doorframe, arms folded and fingers tapping impatiently against his bicep, peering down the quiet corridor at the still closed door to Michael's room. He checked his watch, checked his phone; still nothing, and time was getting on. He returned his gaze to Michael's door and said aloud, "It'll be worth it, I promise."

As if it was aware of his impatience, Felipe's phone buzzed in his pocket, and a smile bloomed on his face as he answered it. " _Buon giorno_."

 _"It would be a good morning if I had my clothes,"_ came Michael's voice.

"Ah, you got me," Felipe responded smoothly. "I guess it was a bit obvious. You should come over and get your things."

 _"Right, right. I'll just wear my clothes from last night, hm?"_ Michael sounded both amused and resigned at their little exchange, evidently knowing where it was leading and playing along.

"Don't be so boring, I left you a lot of clothes to wear!" Felipe paused. "I bet you can't do it…"

The line went dead, and Felipe grinned as he retreated back into his room.

 

Minutes later there was a knock at the door, and the Brazilian looked through the peephole. "Who is it? Are you selling something?"

"Let me in before somebody sees!" Michael implored, and Felipe could see his distorted figure raise a hand to cover the peephole.

"Not persuasive enough!" Felipe replied gleefully.

"I wish you were more hung over…"

Felipe laughed and finally relented, opening the door. The sight that greeted him, though you wouldn't have thought it possible, made his grin grow even wider. Michael had indeed played along and now stood, as he hurriedly closed the door behind him, in hot pink flip-flops and an airy, strappy, floral patterned dress that hung just above his knees and wrinkled across his chest. He'd even donned the wig from the previous night. Felipe nodded in approval as the German spread his arms. "That's a good effort! I gave you a lot of choice; I like the one you picked. How do you feel?"

Michael rolled his eyes, smirking. "Like a man with a dress on." He tugged at the dress where it draped over his thigh. "It's quite breezy. Like boxer shorts, only…breezier."

Felipe raised his eyebrows. "Are you finding a new side to yourself?"

Michael made a face. "Maybe I am!" He gave Felipe a little push backwards as he continued into the room, turning as he did so to carry on facing the younger man, a devious sparkle in his eyes. "Maybe I should come to the Nürburgring next year dressed like this. Maybe I'll follow you everywhere; I'll be a crazy fan, or your mystery wom—"

At that point Michael stopped, his smile faltering. A second's pause and he turned around.

Gathered at the far end of the bedroom, reclining on the bed, perched on the chest of drawers and leaning against the walls, were Rubens, Silvana, Nick, Mark, Ann, Kimi, Fernando, Raquel, Heikki, DC and Karen, and their sudden burst of collective laughter said it all. Even Fernando and Kimi mustered smiles and weak giggles at the sight, despite looking very much the worse for wear thanks to the previous night's alcohol and leaning against one another heavily on Felipe's bed.

Raquel appeared to be the most pleased of all and held up her hand, smiling rather smugly. "I win!" She then extended her hand towards the three other women. "That's one of my dresses, so that's thirty Euros each, please." As Karen, Ann and Silvana begrudgingly handed over the money, Raquel eyed Michael, one eyebrow raised. "Though I didn't think he would go for the one with the pretty flowers."

"I thought for sure he would choose a red one," Felipe commented with a grin, giving Michael's shoulder a nudge with his own as he moved to stand in front of his teammate and survey him some more.

Fernando raised his head from Kimi's shoulder, squinting a little at Michael with his hand to his forehead. "I think I'm imagining all of this, because I can see you wearing my girlfriend's dress," he mumbled and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe I should lie down and hope I will forget what I'm seeing."

"How is that breeziness?" Heikki enquired from his perch on top of the chest of drawers. "Why don't you tell us about it again?"

Rubens and Silvana were both occupied with Silvana's phone, peering at the screen and chuckling as she took photos of the resplendent German. "Hey Michael," Rubens called out, "How much do you want to bet that I won't send these to Corinna?"

"I think you'd look much better swanning around the paddock in a sarong," DC opined, smirking. "That number you've got on there is taking the metrosexual thing a bit far."

"I dunno, maybe it's a German thing," Mark shrugged. "Thought they were supposed to be a bit kinky. Nick, any thoughts there?"

Nick shook his head. "No, that's a poor effort," he said seriously. "He needs to wear suspenders and carry a riding crop, and then he would have a good starting point, maybe."

To Michael's credit, he took all the jeering, wolf-whistles and comments with an acquiescent smile, even giving his unexpected audience a twirl when asked. When the visiting drivers and girlfriends finally ran out of clever things to say and filtered out, Michael directed a not very convincing baleful glare at Felipe, advancing on him and looping an arm around his neck. "You look pleased with yourself!" he exclaimed.

"I think I should be!" Felipe shot back with a laugh as they playfully pushed against one another. He tugged at Michael's dress. "I hope you have your wallet somewhere in there, you owe me that two thousand, plus half of the money you got from that _other_ bet you made."

"Ahhh, you heard about that." Michael responded with a slow nod, his arm relaxing. "I think it's safe to say that you got me back, though. That was pretty good."

Felipe smiled, leaning against Michael and resting his head on the taller man's shoulder. "I learned from the best, _Frau_."

~ _Ende_ ~


End file.
